UC-NRLF 


SB    Efl? 


4. 


O 


MARY  E.WILKINS  FREEMAN 


95-4 


[See  p.  46 


l  HEARD  YOU  HAD  ADOPTED  A  BABY 


THE 
YATES    PRIDE 


A   ROMANCE 

BY 
MARY  E.  WILKINS  FREEMAN 

ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK   AND    LONDON 

MCMXII 


BOOKS  BY 
MARY  E.  WILKINS  FREEMAN 

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PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 
PUBLISHED   SEPTEMBER,    1912 


G-M 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"l   HEARD   YOU  HAD   ADOPTED   A   BABY"      .        Frontispiece 
"DID     THE     DARLING     COME     TO     SEE      HIS 

AUNTIES?" Facing  f.  23 

*' I  DO  BELIEVE  HE  THINKS    HE   KNOWS  YOU 


PART  I 


THE  YATES  PRIDE 


/APPOSITE  Miss  Eudora  Yates's 
V^  old  colonial  mansion  was  the 
perky  modern  Queen  Anne  residence 
of  Mrs.  Joseph  Glynn.  Mrs.  Glynn 
had  a  daughter,  Ethel,  and  an  un 
married  sister,  Miss  Julia  Esterbrook. 
All  three  were  fond  of  talking,  and 
had  many  callers  who  liked  to  hear 
the  feebly  effervescent  news  of  Well- 
wood.  This  afternoon  three  ladies 
were  there:  Miss  Abby  Simson,  Mrs. 
John  Bates,  and  Mrs.  Edward  Lee. 
They  sat  in  the  Glynn  sitting-room, 
which  shrilled  with  treble  voices  as 


PRIDE 


if  a  flock  of  sparrows  had  settled 
therein. 

The  Glynn  sitting-room  was  charm 
ing,  mainly  because  of  the  quantity 
of  flowering  plants.  Every  window 
was  filled  with  them,  until  the  room 
seemed  like  a  conservatory.  Ivy,  too, 
climbed  over  the  pictures,  and  the 
mantel-shelf  was  a  cascade  of  wan 
dering  Jew,  growing  in  old  china 
vases. 

"Your  plants  are  really  wonderful, 
Mrs.  Glynn,"  said  Mrs.  Bates,  "but 
I  don't  see  how  you  manage  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  anything  outside  the  house, 
your  windows  are  so  full  of  them." 

"Maybe  she  can  see  and  not  be 
seen,"  said  Abby  Simson,  who  had 
a  quick  wit  and  a  ready  tongue. 

Mrs.  Joseph  Glynn  flushed  a  little. 
"I  have  not  the  slightest  curiosity 


THE    YATES   PRIDE 

about  my  neighbors,"  she  said,  "but 
it  is  impossible  to  live  just  across  the 
road  from  any  house  without  knowing 
something  of  what  is  going  on,  wheth 
er  one  looks  or  not,"  said  she,  with 
dignity. 

"Ma  and  I  never  look  out  of  the 
windows  from  curiosity,"  said  Ethel 
Glynn,  with  spirit.  Ethel  Glynn  had 
a  great  deal  of  spirit,  which  was 
evinced  in  her  personal  appearance 
as  well  as  her  tongue.  She  had  an 
eye  to  the  fashions;  her  sleeves  were 
never  out  of  date,  nor  was  the  arrange 
ment  of  her  hair. 

"For  instance,"  said  Ethel,  "we 
never  look  at  the  house  opposite  be 
cause  we  are  at  all  prying,  but  we  do 
know  that  that  old  maid  has  been 
doing  a  mighty  queer  thing  lately." 

"First  thing  you  know  you  will  be 


THE   YATES   PRIDE 

an  old  maid  yourself,  and  then  your 
stones  will  break  your  own  glass 
house,"  said  Abby  Simson. 

"Oh,  I  don't  care,"  retorted  Ethel. 
"Nowadays  an  old  maid  isn't  an  old 
maid  except  from  choice,  and  every 
body  knows  it.  But  it  must  have 
been  different  in  Miss  Eudora's  time. 
Why,  she  is  older  than  you  are,  Miss 
Abby." 

"Just  five  years,"  replied  Abby,  un 
ruffled,  "and  she  had  chances,  and  I 
know  it." 

"Why  didn't  she  take  them,  then?" 

"Maybe,"  said  Abby,  "girls  had 
choice  then  as  much  as  now,  but  I 
never  could  make  out  why  she  didn't 
marry  Harry  Lawton." 

Ethel  gave  her  head  a  toss.  "May 
be,"  said  she,  "once  in  a  while,  even  so 
long  ago,  a  girl  wasn't  so  crazy  to  get 

6 


THE   YATES   PRIDE 

married  as  folks  thought.  Maybe  she 
didn't  want  him." 

"She  did  want  him,"  said  Abby. 
"A  girl  doesn't  get  so  pale  and  peaked- 
looking  for  nothing  as  Eudora  Yates 
did,  after  she  had  dismissed  Harry 
Lawton  and  he  had  gone  away,  nor 
haunt  the  post-office  as  she  used  to, 
and,  when  she  didn't  get  a  letter, 
go  away  looking  as  if  she  would 
die." 

"Maybe,"  said  Ethel,  "her  folks 
were  opposed." 

"Nobody  ever  opposed  Eudora 
Yates  except  her  own  self,"  replied 
Abby.  "Her  father  was  dead,  and 
Euroda's  ma  thought  the  sun  rose  and 
set  in  her.  She  would  never  have  op 
posed  her  if  she  had  wanted  to  marry 
a  foreign  duke  or  the  old  Harry  him 
self." 

7 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"I  remember  it  perfectly,"  said 
Mrs.  Joseph  Glynn. 

"So  do  I,"  said  Julia  Esterbrook. 

"Don't  see  why  you  shouldn't. 
You  were  plenty  old  enough  to  have 
your  memory  in  good  working  order 
if  it  was  ever  going  to  be,"  said  Abby 
Simson. 

"Well,"  said  Ethel,  "it  is  the  fun 
niest  thing  I  ever  heard  of.  If  a  girl 
wanted  a  man  enough  to  go  all  to 
pieces  over  him,  and  he  wanted  her, 
why  on  earth  didn't  she  take  him?" 

"Maybe  they  quarreled,"  ventured 
Mrs.  Edward  Lee,  who  was  a  mild, 
sickly-looking  woman  and  seldom  ex 
pressed  an  opinion. 

"Well,  that  might  have  been," 
agreed  Abby,  "although  Eudora  al 
ways  had  the  name  of  having  a  beauti 
ful  disposition." 

8 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"I  have  always  found,"  said  Mrs. 
Joseph  Glynn,  with  an  air  of  wisdom, 
"that  it  is  the  beautiful  dispositions 
which  are  the  most  set  the  minute 
they  get  a  start  the  wrong  way.  It 
is  the  always-flying-out  people  who 
are  the  easiest  to  get  on  with  in  the 
long  run." 

"Well,"  said  Abby,  "maybe  that  is 
so,  but  folks  might  get  worn  all  to  a 
frazzle  by  the  flying-out  ones  before 
the  long  run.  I'd  rather  take  my 
chances  with  a  woman  like  Eudora. 
She  always  seems  just  so,  just  as  calm 
and  sweet.  When  the  Ames's  barn, 
that  was  next  to  hers,  burned  down 
and  the  wind  was  her  way,  she  just 
walked  in  and  out  of  her  house,  carry 
ing  the  things  she  valued  most,  and 
she  looked  like  a  picture— somehow 
she  had  got  all  dressed  fit  to  make 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

calls — and  there  wasn't  a  muscle  of 
her  face  that  seemed  to  move.  Eu- 
dora  Yates  is  to  my  mind  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  this  town,  old  or 
young,  I  don't  care  who  she  is." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Julia  Esterbrook, 
"that  she  has  a  lot  of  money." 

"I  wonder  if  she  has,"  said  Mrs. 
John  Bates. 

The  others  stared  at  her.  "What 
makes  you  think  she  hasn't?"  Mrs. 
Glynn  inquired,  sharply. 

"Nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Bates,  and 
closed  her  thin  lips.  She  would  say 
no  more,  but  the  others  had  suspi 
cions,  because  her  husband,  John 
Bates,  was  a  wealthy  business  man. 

"I  can't  believe  she  has  lost  her 
money,"  said  Mrs.  Glynn.  "She 
wouldn't  have  been  such  a  fool  as  to 
do  what  she  has  if  she  hadn't  money." 


10 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"What  has  she  done?"  asked  Mrs. 
Bates,  eagerly. 

"What  has  she  done?"  asked  Abby, 
and  Mrs.  Lee  looked  up  inquiringly. 

The  faces  of  Mrs.  Glynn,  her  daugh 
ter,  and  her  sister  became  important, 
full  of  sly  and  triumphant  knowledge. 

"Haven't  you  heard?"  asked  Mrs. 
Glynn. 

"Yes,  haven't  you?"  asked  Ethel. 

"Haven't  any  of  you  heard?"  asked 
Julia  Esterbrook. 

"No,"  admitted  Abby,  rather  fee 
bly.  "I  don't  know  as  I  have." 

"Do  you  mean  about  Euroda's  go 
ing  so  often  to  the  Lancaster  girls'  to 
tea?"  asked  Mrs.  John  Bates,  with  a 
slight  bridle  of  possible  knowledge. 

"I  heard  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Lee, 
not  to  be  outdone. 

"Land,   no,"   replied  Mrs.   Glynn. 
11 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Didn't  she  always  go  there?  It 
isn't  that.  It  is  the  most  unheard-of 
thing  she  had  done;  but  no  woman, 
unless  she  had  plenty  of  money  to 
bring  it  up,  would  have  done  it." 

"To  bring  what  up?"  asked  Abby, 
sharply.  Her  eyes  looked  as  small 
and  bright  as  needles. 

Julia  regarded  her  with  intense 
satisfaction.  "What  do  women  gen 
erally  bring  up?"  said  she. 

"I  don't  know  of  anything  they 
bring  up,  whether  they  have  it  or 
not,  except  a  baby,"  retorted  Abby, 
sharply. 

Julia  wilted  a  little;  but  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Glynn,  was  not  perturbed.  She 
launched  her  thunderbolt  of  news  at 
once,  aware  that  the  critical  moment 
had  come,  when  the  quarry  of  sus 
picion  had  left  the  bushes. 
12 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"She  has  adopted  a  baby,"  said 
she,  and  paused  like  a  woman  who 
had  fired  a  gun,  half  scared  herself 
and  shrinking  from  the  report. 

Ethel  seconded  her  mother.  "  Yes," 
said  she,  "Miss  Eudora  has  adopted 
a  baby,  and  she  has  a  baby-carriage, 
and  she  wheels  it  out  any  time  she 
takes  a  notion."  Ethel's  speech  was 
of  the  nature  of  an  after-climax.  The 
baby-carriage  weakened  the  situa 
tion. 

The  other  women  seized  upon  the 
idea  of  the  carriage  to  cover  their 
surprise  and  prevent  too  much  gloat 
ing  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Glynn,  Ethel, 
and  Julia. 

"Is  it  a  new  carriage?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Lee. 

"No,  it  looks  like  one  that  came 
over  in  the  ark,"  retorted  Mrs.  Glynn. 

13 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

Then  she  repeated:  "She  has  adopted 
a  baby,"  but  this  time  there  was  no 
effect  of  an  explosion.  However,  the 
treble  chorus  rose  high,  "Where  did 
she  get  the  baby?  Was  it  a  boy  or 
a  girl?  Why  did  she  adopt  it?  Did 
it  cry  much?"  and  other  queries, 
none  of  which  Mrs.  Glynn,  Ethel, 
and  Julia  could  answer  very  decidedly 
except  the  last.  They  all  announced 
that  the  adopted  baby  was  never 
heard  to  cry  at  all. 

"Must  be  a  very  good  child," 
said  Abby. 

"Must  be  a  very  healthy  child," 
said  Mrs.  Lee,  who  had  had  expe 
rience  with  crying  babies. 

"Well,  she  has  it,  anyhow,"  said 
Mrs.  Glynn. 

Right  upon  the  announcement  came 
proof.  The  beautiful  door  of  the 

14 


THE   YATES   PRIDE 

old  colonial  mansion  opposite  was 
thrown  open,  and  clumsy  and  cautious 
motion  was  evident.  Presently  a  tall, 
slender  woman  came  down  the  path 
between  the  box  borders,  pushing  a 
baby-carriage.  It  was  undoubtedly 
a  very  old  carriage.  It  must  have 
dated  back  to  the  fifties,  if  not  the 
forties.  It  was  made  of  wood,  with 
a  leather  buggy-top,  and  was  evidently 
very  heavy. 

Abby  eyed  it  shrewdly.  "If  I  am 
not  mistaken,"  said  she,  "that  is  the 
very  carriage  Eudora  herself  was 
wheeled  around  in  when  she  was  a 
baby.  I  am  almost  sure  I  have  seen 
that  identical  carriage  before.  When 
we  were  girls  I  used  to  go  to  the 
Yates  house  sometimes.  Of  course, 
it  was  always  very  formal,  a  little 
tea-party  for  Eudora,  with  her  mother 


15 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

on  hand,  but  I  feel  sure  that  I  saw 
that  carriage  there  one  of  those  times." 

"I  suppose  it  cost  a  lot  of  money, 
in  the  time  of  it.  The  Yateses  always 
got  the  very  best  for  Eudora,"  said 
Julia.  "And  maybe  Eudora  goes 
about  so  little  she  doesn't  realize  how 
out  of  date  the  carriage  is,  but  I 
should  think  it  would  be  very  heavy 
to  wheel,  especially  if  the  baby  is  a 
good-sized  one." 

"It  looks  like  a  very  large  baby," 
said  Ethel.  "Of  course,  it  is  so  rolled 
up  we  can't  tell." 

"Haven't  you  gone  out  and  asked 
to  see  the  baby?"  said  Abby. 

"Would  we  dare  unless  Eudora 
Yates  offered  to  show  it?"  said  Julia, 
with  a  surprised  air;  and  the  others 
nodded  assent.  Then  they  all  crowd 
ed  to  the  front  windows  and  watched 

16 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

from  behind  the  screens  of  green 
flowering  things.  It  was  very  early 
in  the  spring.  Fairly  hot  days  al 
ternated  with  light  frosts.  The  trees 
were  touched  with  sprays  of  rose  and 
gold  and  gold-green,  but  the  wind  still 
blew  cold  from  the  northern  snows, 
and  the  occupant  of  Eudora's  ancient 
carriage  was  presumably  wrapped 
well  to  shelter  if  from  harm.  There 
was,  in  fact,  nothing  to  be  seen  in 
the  carriage,  except  a  large  roll  of 
blue  and  white,  as  Eudora  emerged 
from  the  yard  and  closed  the  iron  gate 
of  the  tall  fence  behind  her. 

Through  this  fence  pricked  the 
evergreen  box,  and  the  deep  yard 
was  full  of  soft  pastel  tints  of  re 
luctantly  budding  trees  and  bushes. 
There  was  one  deep  splash  of  color 
from  a  yellow  bush  in  full  bloom. 

17 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

Eudora  paced  down  the  sidewalk 
with  a  magnificent,  stately  gait.  There 
was  something  rather  magnificent  in 
her  whole  appearance.  Her  skirts  of 
old,  but  rich,  black  fabric  swept  about 
her  long,  advancing  limbs;  she  held 
her  black-bonneted  head  high,  as  if 
crowned.  She  pushed  the  cumber 
some  baby-carriage  with  no  apparent 
effort.  An  ancient  India  shawl  was 
draped  about  her  sloping  shoul 
ders. 

Eudora,  as  she  passed  the  Glynn 
house,  turned  her  face  slightly,  so 
that  its  pure  oval  was  evident.  She 
was  now  a  beauty  in  late  middle  life. 
Her  hair,  of  an  indeterminate  shade, 
swept  in  soft  shadows  over  her  ears; 
her  features  were  regular;  her  ex 
pression  was  at  once  regal  and  gentle. 
A  charm  which  was  neither  of  youth 

18 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

nor  of  age  reigned  in  her  face;  her  grace 
had  surmounted  with  triumphant  ease 
the  slope  of  every  year.  Eudora 
passed  out  of  sight  with  the  baby- 
carriage,  lifting  her  proud  lady-head 
under  the  soft  droop  of  the  spring 
boughs;  and  her  inspectors,  whom  she 
had  not  seen,  moved  back  from  the 
Glynn  windows  with  exclamations 
of  astonishment. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Abby,  "whether 
she  will  have  that  baby  call  her  ma 
or  aunty." 

Meantime  Eudora  passed  down  the 
village  street  until  she  reached  the 
Lancaster  house,  about  half  a  mile 
away  on  the  same  side.  There  dwelt 
the  Misses  Amelia  and  Anna  Lan 
caster,  who  were  about  Eudora' s  age, 
and  a  widowed  sister,  Mrs.  Sophia 
Willing,  who  was  much  older.  The 

3  19 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

Lancaster  house  was  also  a  colonial 
mansion,  much  after  the  fashion  of 
Eudora's,  but  it  showed  signs  of  con 
tinued  opulence.  Eudora's,  behind  her 
trees  and  leafing  vines,  was  gray  for 
lack  of  paint.  Some  of  the  colonial 
ornamental  details  about  porches  and 
roof  were  sloughing  off  or  had  already 
disappeared.  The  Lancaster  house 
gleamed  behind  its  grove  of  ever 
green  trees  as  white  and  perfect  as  in 
its  youth.  The  windows  showed  rich 
slants  of  draperies  behind  their  green 
glister  of  old  glass. 

A  gardener,  with  a  boy  assistant, 
was  at  work  in  the  grounds  when 
Eudora  entered.  He  touched  his  cap. 
He  was  an  old  man  who  had  lived 
with  the  Lancasters  ever  since  Eudora 
could  remember.  He  advanced  tow 
ard  her  now.  "Sha'n't  Tommy 
20 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

push — the  baby-carriage  up  to  the 
house  for  you,  Miss  Eudora?"  he 
said,  in  his  cracked  old  voice. 

Eudora  flushed  slightly,  and,  as  if 
in  response,  the  old  man  flushed,  also. 
"No,  I  thank  you,  Wilson,"  she  said, 
and  moved  on. 

The  boy,  who  was  raking  dry 
leaves,  stood  gazing  at  them  with  a 
shrewd,  whimsical  expression.  He 
was  the  old  man's  grandson. 

"Is  that  a  boy  or  a  girl  kid,  grand 
pa?"  he  inquired,  when  the  gardener 
returned. 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  replied  the 
old  man,  irascibly.  Suddenly  he  seized 
the  boy  by  his  two  thin  little  shoulders 
with  knotted  old  hands. 

"Look  at  here,  Tommy,  whatever 
you  know,  you  keep  your  mouth  shet, 

and  whatever  you  don't  know,  you 
21 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

keep  your  mouth  shet,  if  you  know 
what's  good  for  you,"  he  said,  in  a 
fierce  whisper. 

The  boy  whistled  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders  loose.  "You  know  I  ain't 
goin'  to  tell  tales,  grandpa,"  he  said, 
in  a  curiously  manly  fashion. 

The  old  man  nodded.  "All  right, 
Tommy.  I  don't  believe  you  be, 
nuther,  but  you  may  jest  as  well  git 
it  through  your  head  what's  goin' 
to  happen  if  you  do." 

"Ain't  goin'  to,"  returned  the  boy. 
He  whistled  charmingly  as  he  raked 
the  leaves.  His  whistle  sounded  like 
the  carol  of  a  bird. 

Eudora  pushed  the  carriage  around 
to  the  side  door,  and  immediately 
there  was  a  fluttering  rush  of  a  slender 
woman  clad  in  lavender  down  the 
steps.  This  woman  first  kissed 


DID    THE    DARLING    COME   TO    SEE    HIS   AUNTIES? 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

Eudora  with  gentle  fervor,  then,  with 
a  sly  look  around  and  voice  raised 
intentionally  high,  she  lifted  the  blue 
and  white  roll  from  the  carriage  with 
the  tenderest  care.  "Did  the  darling 
come  to  see  his  aunties?"  she  shrilled. 

The  old  man  and  the  boy  in  the 
front  yard  heard  her  distinctly.  The 
old  man's  face  was  imperturbable. 
The  boy  grinned. 

Two  other  women,  all  clad  in  laven 
der,  appeared  in  the  doorway.  They 
also  bent  over  the  blue  and  white 
bundle.  They  also  said  something 
about  the  darling  coming  to  see  his 
aunties.  Then  there  ensued  the  soft 
est  chorus  of  lady-laughter,  as  if  at 
some  hidden  joke. 

"Come  in,  Eudora  dear,"  said 
Amelia  Lancaster.  "Yes,  come  in, 
Eudora  dear,"  said  Anna  Lancaster. 

23 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

:'Yes,  come  in,  Eudora  dear,"   said 
Sophia  Willing. 

Sophia  looked  much  older  than  her 
sisters,  but  with  that  exception  the 
resemblance  between  all  three  was 
startling.  They  always  dressed  ex 
actly  alike,  too,  in  silken  fabric  of 
bluish  lavender,  like  myrtle  blossoms. 
Some  of  the  poetical  souls  in  the 
village  called  the  Lancaster  sisters 
"The  ladies  in  lavender." 

There  was  an  astonishing  change 
in  the  treatment  of  the  blue  and 
white  bundle  when  the  sisters  and 
Eudora  were  in  the  stately  old  sitting- 
room,  with  its  heavy  mahogany  furni 
ture  and  its  white- wainscoted  walls. 
Amelia  simply  tossed  the  bundle  into 
a  corner  of  the  sofa;  then  the  sisters 
all  sat  in  a  loving  circle  around 
Eudora. 

24 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Are  you  sure  you  are  not  utterly 
worn  out,  dear?"  asked  Amelia,  ten 
derly;  and  the  others  repeated  the 
question  in  exactly  the  same  tone. 
The  Lancaster  sisters  were  not  pretty, 
but  all  had  charming  expressions  of 
gentleness  and  a  dignified  good-will 
and  loving  kindness.  Their  blue  eyes 
beamed  love  at  Eudora,  and  it  was  as 
if  she  sat  encircled  in  a  soul-ring  of 
affection. 

She  responded,  and  her  beautiful 
face  glowed  with  tenderness  and  pleas 
ure,  and  something  besides,  which 
was  as  the  light  of  victory. 

"I  am  not  in  the  least  tired,  thank 
you,  dears,"  she  replied.  "  Why  should 
I  be  tired?  I  am  very  strong." 

Amelia  murmured  something  about 
such  hard  work. 

"I  never  thought  it  would  be  hard 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

work  taking  care  of  a  baby,"  replied 
Eudora,  "and  especially  such  a  very 
light  baby." 

Something  whimsical  crept  into 
Eudora's  voice;  something  whimsical 
crept  into  the  love-light  of  the  other 
women's  eyes.  Again  a  soft  ripple 
of  mirth  swept  over  them. 

"Especially  a  baby  who  never 
cries,"  said  Amelia. 

"No,  he  never  does  cry,"  said 
Eudora,  demurely. 

They  laughed  again.  Then  Amelia 
rose  and  left  the  room  to  get  the  tea- 
things.  The  old  serving- woman  who 
had  lived  with  them  for  many  years 
was  suffering  from  rheumatism,  and 
was  cared  for  by  her  daughter  in 
the  little  cottage  across  the  road 
from  the  Lancaster  house.  Her  hus 
band  and  grandson  were  the  man  and 

26 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

boy  at  work  in  the  grounds.  The 
three  sisters  took  care  of  themselves 
and  their  house  with  the  elegant  ease 
and  lack  of  fluster  of  gentlewomen 
born  and  bred.  Miss  Amelia,  bring 
ing  in  the  tea-tray,  was  an  unclassed 
being,  neither  maid  nor  mistress,  but 
outranking  either.  She  had  tied  on 
a  white  apron.  She  bore  the  silver 
tray  with  an  ease  which  bespoke 
either  nerve  or  muscle  in  her  lace- 
draped  arms. 

She  poured  the  tea,  holding  the 
silver  pot  high  and  letting  the  amber 
fluid  trickle  slowly,  and  the  pearls  and 
diamonds  on  her  thin  hands  shone 
dully.  Sophia  passed  little  china 
plates  and  fringed  napkins,  and  Anna 
a  silver  basket  with  golden  squares 
of  sponge-cake. 

The  ladies  ate  and  drank,  and  the 

27 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

blue  and  white  bundle  on  the  sofa 
remained  motionless.  Eudora,  after 
she  had  finished  her  tea,  leaned  back 
gracefully  in  her  chair,  and  her  dark 
eyes  gleamed  with  its  mild  stimulus. 
She  remained  an  hour  or  more.  When 
she  went  out,  Amelia  slipped  an 
envelope  into  her  hand  and  at  the 
same  time  embraced  and  kissed  her. 
Sophia  and  Anna  followed  her  ex 
ample.  Eudora  opened  her  mouth  as 
if  to  speak,  but  smiled  instead,  a 
fond,  proud  smile.  During  the  last 
fifteen  minutes  of  her  stay  Amelia 
had  slipped  out  of  the  room  with  the 
blue  and  white  bundle.  Now  she 
brought  it  out  and  laid  it  carefully  in 
the  carriage. 

"We  are  always  so  glad  to  see  you, 
dearest  Eudora,"  said  she,  "but  you 
understand — " 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Yes,"  said  Sophia,  "you  under 
stand,  Eudora  dear,  that  there  is  not 
the  slightest  haste." 

Eudora  nodded,  and  her  long  neck 
seemed  to  grow  longer. 

When  she  was  stepping  regally  down 
the  path,  Amelia  said  in  a  hasty  whis 
per  to  Sophia:  "Did  you  tell  her?" 

Sophia  shook  her  head.  "  No,  sister." 

"I  didn't  know  but  you  might  have, 
while  I  was  out  of  the  room." 

"I  did  not,"  said  Sophia.  She 
looked  doubtfully  at  Amelia,  then  at 
Anna,  and  doubt  flashed  back  and 
forth  between  the  three  pairs  of  blue 
eyes  for  a  second.  Then  Sophia 
spoke  with  authority,  because  she 
was  the  only  one  of  them  all  who  had 
entered  the  estate  of  matrimony,  and 
had  consequently  obvious  cognizance 
of  such  matters. 

29 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"I  think,"  said  she,  "that  Eudora 
should  be  told  that  Harry  Lawton  has 
come  back  and  is  boarding  at  the 
Wellwood  Inn." 

"You  think,"  faltered  Amelia, 
"that  it  is  possible  she  might  meet 
him  unexpectedly?" 

"I  certainly  do  think  so.  And  she 
might  show  her  feelings  in  a  way  which 
she  would  ever  afterward  regret." 

"You  think,  then,  that  she—" 

Sophia  gave  her  sister  a  look. 
Amelia  fled  after  Eudora  and  the 
baby-carriage.  She  overtook  her  at 
the  gate.  She  laid  her  hand  on 
Eudora's  arm,  draped  with  India 
shawl. 

"Eudora!"  she  gasped. 

Eudora  turned  her  serene  face  and 
regarded  her  questioningly. 

"Eudora,"  said  Amelia,  "have  you 
so 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

heard  of  anybody's  coming  to  stay 
at  the  inn  lately?" 

"No,"  replied  Eudora,  calmly. 
"Why,  dear?" 

"Nothing,  only,  Eudora,  a  dear  and 
old  friend  of  yours,  of  ours,  is  there,  so 
I  hear." 

Eudora  did  not  inquire  who  the 
old  friend  might  be.  "Really?"  she 
remarked.  Then  she  said,  "Good- 
by,  Amelia  dear,"  and  resumed  her 
progress  with  the  baby-carriage. 


PART  II 


never  even  asked  who  it 
was,"  Amelia  reported  to  her  sis 
ters,  when  she  had  returned  to  the 
house.  "Because  she  knew,"  replied 
Sophia,  sagely;  "there  has  never  been 
any  old  friend  but  that  one  old  friend 
to  come  back  into  Eudora  Yates's 
life." 

"Has  he  come  back  into  her  life, 
I  wonder?"  said  Amelia. 

"What  did  he  return  to  Wellwood 
for  if  he  didn't  come  for  that?  All 
his  relatives  are  gone.  He  never 
married.  Yes,  he  has  come  back  to 
see  Eudora  and  marry  her,  if  she  will 
have  him.  No  man  who  ever  loved 
Eudora  would  ever  get  over  loving 

4  35 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

her.  And  he  will  not  be  shocked  when 
he  sees  her.  She  is  no  more  changed 
than  a  beautiful  old  statue." 

66  He  is  changed,  though,"  said 
Amelia.  "I  saw  him  the  other  day. 
He  didn't  see  me,  and  I  would  hardly 
have  known  him.  He  has  grown 
stout,  and  his  hair  is  gray." 

"Eudora's  hair  is  gray,"  said  Sophia. 

"Yes,  but  you  can  see  the  gold 
through  Eudora's  gray.  It  just  looks 
as  if  a  shadow  was  thrown  over  it. 
It  doesn't  change  her.  Harry  Law- 
ton's  gray  hair  does  change  him." 

"If,"  said  Anna,  sentimentally, 
"Eudora  thinks  Harry's  hair  turned 
gray  for  love  of  her,  you  can  trust  her 
or  any  woman  to  see  the  gold  through 
it." 

"Harry's  hair  was  never  gold — just 
an  ordinary  brown,"  said  Amelia. 

36 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Anyway,  the  Lawtons  turned  gray 
young." 

"She  won't  think  of  that  at  all," 
said  Sophia. 

"I  wonder  why  Eudora  always 
avoided  him  so,  years  ago,"  said 
Amelia. 

"Why  doesn't  a  girl  in  a  field  of 
daisies  stop  to  pick  one,  which  she 
never  forgets?"  said  Sophia.  "Eudora 
had  so  many  chances,  and  I  don't 
think  her  heart  was  fixed  when  she  was 
very  young;  at  least,  I  don't  think  it 
was  fixed  so  she  knew  it." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Amelia,  "if  he 
will  go  and  call  on  her." 

Amelia  privately  wished  that  she 
lived  near  enough  to  know  if  Harry 
Lawton  did  call.  She,  as  well  as  Mrs. 
Joseph  Glynn,  would  have  enjoyed 
watching  out  and  knowing  something 

37 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

of  the  village  happenings,  but  the 
Lancaster  house  was  situated  so  far 
from  the  road,  behind  its  grove  of 
trees,  that  nothing  whatever  could 
be  seen. 

"I  doubt  if  Eudora  tells,  if  he  does 
call — that  is,  not  unless  something 
definite  happens,"  said  Anna. 

"No,"  remarked  Amelia,  sadly. 
"Eudora  is  a  dear,  but  she  is  very 
silent  with  regard  to  her  own  af 
fairs." 

"She  ought  to  be,"  said  Sophia, with 
her  married  authority.  She  was,  to 
her  sisters,  as  one  who  had  passed 
within  the  shrine  and  was  dignifiedly 
silent  with  regard  to  its  intimate 
mysteries. 

"I  suppose  so,"  assented  Anna,  with 
a  soft  sigh.  Amelia  sighed  also. 
Then  she  took  the  tea-tray  out  of  the 

38 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

room.  She  had  to  make  some  biscuits 
for  supper. 

Meantime  Eudora  was  pacing  home 
ward  with  the  baby-carriage.  Her 
serene  face  was  a  little  perturbed. 
Her  oval  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  her 
mouth  now  and  then  trembled.  She 
had,  if  she  followed  her  usual  course, 
to  pass  the  Wellwood  Inn,  but  she 
could  diverge,  and  by  taking  a  side 
street  and  walking  a  half-mile  farther 
reach  home  without  coming  in  sight 
of  the  inn.  She  did  so  to-day. 

When  she  reached  the  side  street 
she  turned  rather  swiftly  and  gave  a 
little  sigh  of  relief.  She  was  afraid 
that  she  might  meet  Harry  Lawton. 
It  was  a  lonely  way.  There  was  a 
brook  on  one  side,  bordered  thickly 
with  bushy  willows  which  were  turn 
ing  gold-green.  On  the  other  side 

39 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

were  undulating  pasture-lands  on 
which  grazed  a  few  sheep.  There 
were  no  houses  until  she  reached  the 
turn  which  would  lead  back  to  the 
main  street,  on  which  her  home  was 
located. 

Eudora  was  about  midway  of  this 
street  when  she  saw  a  man  approach 
ing.  He  was  a  large  man  clad  in 
gray,  and  he  was  swinging  an  um 
brella.  Somehow  the  swing  of  that 
umbrella,  even  from  a  distance,  gave 
an  impression  of  embarrassment  and 
boyish  hesitation.  Eudora  did  not 
know  him  at  first.  She  had  ex 
pected  to  see  the  same  Harry  Lawton 
who  had  gone  away.  She  did  not 
expect  to  see  a  stout,  middle-aged 
man,  but  a  slim  youth. 

However,  as  they  drew  nearer  each 
other,  she  knew ;  and  curiously  enough 

40 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

it  was  that  swing  of  the  tightly 
furled  umbrella  which  gave  her  the 
clue.  She  knew  Harry  because  of 
that.  It  was  a  little  boyish  trick 
which  had  survived  time.  It  was  too 
late  for  her  to  draw  back,  for  he  had 
seen  her,  and  Eudora  was  keenly 
alive  to  the  indignity  of  abruptly 
turning  and  scuttling  away  with  the 
tail  of  her  black  silk  swishing,  her 
India  shawl  trailing,  and  the  baby- 
carriage  bumping  over  the  furrows. 
She  continued,  and  Harry  Lawton 
continued,  and  they  met. 

Harry  Lawton  had  known  Eudora 
at  once.  She  looked  the  same  to 
him  as  when  she  had  been  a  girl, 
and  he  looked  the  same  to  her  when 
he  spoke. 

"Hullo,  Eudora,"  said  Harry  Law- 
ton,  in  a  ludicrously  boyish  fashion. 

41 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

His  face  flushed,  too,  like  a  boy.  He 
extended  his  hand  like  a  boy.  The 
man,  seen  near  at  hand,  was  a  boy. 
In  reality  he  himself  had  not  changed. 
A  few  layers  of  flesh  and  a  change  of 
color-cells  do  not  make  another  man. 
He  had  always  been  a  simple,  sincere, 
friendly  soul,  beloved  of  men  and 
women  alike,  and  he  was  that  now. 
Eudora  held  out  her  hand,  and  her 
eyes  fell  before  the  eyes  of  the  man, 
in  an  absurd  fashion  for  such  a  stately 
creature  as  she.  But  the  man  him 
self  acted  like  a  great  happy  over 
grown  school -boy. 

"Hullo,  Eudora,"  he  said  again. 

"Hullo,"  said  she,  falteringly. 

It  was  inconceivable  that  they 
should  meet  in  such  wise  after  the 
years  of  separation  and  longing  which 
they  had  both  undergone;  but  each 

42 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

took  refuge,  as  it  were,  in  a  long-past 
youth,  even  childhood,  from  the  fierce 
tension  of  age.  When  they  were 
both  children  they  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  pass  each  other  on  the  vil 
lage  street  with  exactly  such  saluta 
tion,  and  now  both  reverted  to  it. 
The  tall,  regal  woman  in  her  India 
shawl  and  the  stout,  middle-aged 
man  had  both  stepped  back  to  their 
vantage-ground  of  springtime  to  meet. 

However,  after  a  moment,  Eudora 
reasserted  herself.  "I  only  heard  a 
short  time  ago  that  you  were  here," 
she  said,  in  her  usual  even  voice.  The 
fair  oval  of  her  face  was  as  serene  and 
proud  toward  the  man  as  the  face  of 
the  moon. 

The  man  swung  his  umbrella,  then 
began  prodding  the  ground  with  it. 
"Hullo,  Eudora,"  he  said  again;  then 

43 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

he  added:  "How  are  you,  anyway? 
Fine  and  well?" 

"I  am  very  well,  thank  you,"  said 
Eudora.  "So  you  have  come  home 
to  Well  wood  after  all  this  time?" 

The  man  made  an  effort  and  re 
covered  himself,  although  his  hand 
some  face  was  burning. 

"Yes,"  he  remarked,  with  con 
siderable  ease  and  dignity,  to  which 
he  had  a  right,  for  Harry  Lawton  had 
not  made  a  failure  of  his  life,  even 
though  it  had  not  included  Eudora 
and  a  fulfilled  dream. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "I  had  some 
leisure;  in  fact,  I  have  this  spring 
retired  from  business;  and  I  thought 
I  would  have  a  look  at  the  old  place. 
Very  little  changed  I  am  happy  to 
find  it." 

"Yes,   it   is   very   little   changed," 

44 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

assented  Eudora;  "at  least,  it  seems 
so  to  me,  but  it  is  not  for  a  life-long 
dweller  in  any  place  to  judge  of 
change.  It  is  for  the  one  who  goes 
and  returns  after  many  years." 

There  was  a  faint  hint  of  proud 
sadness  in  Eudora's  voice  as  she  spoke 
the  last  two  words. 

"It  has  been  many  years,"  said 
Lawton,  gravely,  "and  I  wonder  if 
it  has  seemed  so  to  you." 

Eudora  held  her  head  proudly. 
"Time  passes  swiftly,"  said  she, 
tritely. 

"But  sometimes  it  may  seem  long 
in  the  passing,  however  swift,"  said 
Lawton,  "though  I  suppose  it  has 
not  to  you.  You  look  just  the  same," 
he  added,  regarding  her  admiringly. 

Eudora  flushed  a  little.  "I  must 
be  changed,"  she  murmured. 

45 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Not  a  bit.  I  would  have  known 
you  anywhere.  But  I — " 

"I  knew  you  the  minute  you 
spoke." 

"Did  you?"  he  asked,  eagerly.  "I 
was  afraid  I  had  grown  so  stout  you 
would  not  remember  me  at  all.  Queer 
how  a  man  will  grow  stout.  I  am 
not  such  a  big  eater,  either,  and  I 
have  worked  hard,  and — well,  I  might 
have  been  worse  off,  but  I  must  say 
I  have  seen  men  who  seemed  to  me 
happier,  though  I  have  made  the  best 
of  things.  I  always  did  despise  a  flunk. 
But  you!  I  heard  you  had  adopted 
a  baby,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden 
glance  at  the  blue  and  white  bundle 
in  the  carriage,  "and  I  thought  you 
were  mighty  sensible.  When  people 
grow  old  they  want  young  people 
growing  around  them,  staffs  for  old 

46 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

age,  you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  Don't  know  but  I  should 
have  adopted  a  boy  myself  if  it 
hadn't  been  for — " 

The  man  stopped,  and  his  face  was 
pink.  Eudora  turned  her  face  slight 
ly  away. 

"By  the  way,"  said  the  man,  in  a 
suddenly  hushed  voice,  "I  suppose 
the  kid  you've  got  there  is  asleep. 
Wouldn't  do  to  wake  him?" 

"I  think  I  had  better  not,"  replied 
Eudora,  in  a  hesitating  voice.  She 
began  to  walk  along,  and  Harry 
Lawton  fell  into  step  beside  her. 

"I  suppose  it  isn't  best  to  wake  up 
babies;  makes  them  cross,  and  they 
cry,"  he  said.  "Say,  Eudora,  is  he 
much  trouble?" 

"Very  little,"  replied  Eudora,  still 
in  that  strange  voice. 

47 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Doesn't  keep  you  awake  nights?" 

"Oh  no." 

"Because  jf  he  does,  I  really  think 
you  should  have  a  nurse.  I  don't 
think  you  ought  to  lose  sleep  taking 
care  of  him." 

"I  do  not." 

"Well,  I  was  mighty  glad  when  I 
heard  you  had  adopted  him.  I  sup 
pose  you  made  sure  about  his  parent 
age,  where  he  hailed  from  and  what 
sort  of  people?" 

"Oh  yes."     Eudora  was  very  pale. 

"That's  right.  Maybe  some  time 
you  will  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  am 
coming  over  Thursday  to  have  a  look 
at  the  youngster.  I  have  to  go  to  the 
city  on  business  to-morrow  and  can't 
get  back  until  Thursday.  I  was  com 
ing  over  to-night  to  call  on  you,  but 
I  have  a  man  coming  to  the  inn  this 

48 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

evening — called  me  up  on  the  tele 
phone  just  now — one  of  the  men  who 
have  taken  my  place  in  the  business; 
and  as  long  as  I  have  met  you  I  will 
just  walk  along  with  you,  and  come 
Thursday.  I  suppose  the  baby  won't 
be  likely  to  wake  up  just  yet,  and 
when  he  does  you'll  have  to  get  his 
supper  and  put  him  to  bed.  Is  that 
the  way  the  rule  goes?" 

Eudora  nodded  in  a  shamed,  speech 
less  sort  of  way. 

"All  right.  I'll  come  Thursday— 
but  say,  look  here,  Eudora.  This  is 
a  quiet  road,  not  a  soul  in  sight,  just 
like  an  outdoor  room  to  ourselves. 
Why  shouldn't  I  know  now  just  as 
well  as  wait?  Say,  Eudora,  you  know 
how  I  used  to  feel  about  you.  Well, 
it  has  lasted  all  these  years.  There 
has  never  been  another  woman  I  even 

49 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

cared  to  look  at.  You  are  alone> 
except  for  that  baby,  and  I  am  alone. 
Eudora—" 

The  man  hesitated.  His  flushed 
face  had  paled.  Eudora  paced  silent 
ly  and  waveringly  at  his  side. 

"Eudora,"  the  man  went  on,  "you 
know  you  always  used  to  run  away 
from  me — never  gave  me  a  chance  to 
really  ask;  and  I  thought  you  didn't 
care.  But  somehow  I  have  wondered 
— perhaps  because  you  never  got 
married — if  you  didn't  quite  mean  it, 
if  you  didn't  quite  know  your  own 
mind.  You'll  think  I'm  a  conceited 
ass,  but  I'm  not  a  bad  sort,  Eudora. 
I  would  be  as  good  to  you  as  I  know 
how,  and — we  could  bring  him  up  to 
gether."  He  pointed  to  the  carriage. 
"I  have  plenty  of  money.  We  could 
do  anything  we  wanted  to  do  for  him, 

50 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

and  we  should  not  have  to  live  alone. 
Say,  Eudora,  you  may  not  think  it's 
the  thing  for  a  man  to  own  up  to, 
but,  hang  it  all !  I'm  alone,  and  I  don't 
want  to  face  the  rest  of  my  life  alone. 
Eudora,  do  you  think  you  could  make 
up  your  mind  to  marry  me,  after 
all?" 

They  had  reached  the  turn  in  the 
road.  Just  beyond  rose  the  stately 
pile  of  the  old  Yates  mansion.  Eudora 
stood  still  and  gave  one  desperate 
look  at  her  lover.  "I  will  let  you 
know  Thursday,"  she  gasped.  Then 
she  was  gone,  trundling  the  baby- 
carriage  with  incredible  speed. 

"But,  Eudora—" 

"I  must  go,"she  called  back,faintly. 
The  man  stood  staring  after  the  hurry 
ing  figure  with  its  swishing  black 
skirts  and  its  flying  points  of  rich 

5  51 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

India  shawl,  and  he  smiled  happily 
and  tenderly.  That  evening  at  the 
inn  his  caller,  a  young  fellow  just 
married  and  beaming  with  happiness, 
saw  an  answering  beam  in  the  older 
man's  face.  He  broke  off  in  the  midst 
of  a  sentence  and  stared  at  him. 

"Don't  give  me  away  until  I  tell 
you  to,  Ned,"  he  said,  "but  I  don't 
know  but  I  am  going  to  follow  your 
example." 

"My  example?" 

"Yes,  going  to  get  married." 

The  young  man  gasped.  A  look 
of  surprise,  of  amusement,  then  of 
generous  sympathy  came  over  his 
face.  He  grasped  Lawton's  hand. 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Oh,  a  woman  I  wanted  more  than 
anything  in  the  world  when  I  was 
about  your  age." 

52 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Then  she  isn't  young?" 

"She  is  better  than  young." 

"Well,"  agreed  the  young  man, 
"being  young  and  pretty  is  not  every 
thing." 

"  Pretty !"  said  Harry  Lawton,  scorn 
fully,  ' '  pretty !  She  is  a  great  beauty. ' ' 

"And  not  young?" 

"She  is  a  great  beauty,  and  better 
than  young,  because  time  has  not 
touched  her  beauty,  and  you  can  see 
for  yourself  that  it  lasts." 

The  young  man  laughed.  "Oh, 
well,"  he  said,  with  a  tender  inflection, 
"I  dare  say  that  my  Amy  will  look 
like  that  to  me." 

"If  she  doesn't  you  don't  love  her," 
said  Lawton.  "But  my  Eudora  is 
that." 

"That  is  a  queer-sounding  Greek 


name." 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"She  is  Greek,  like  her  name. 
Such  beauty  never  grows  old.  She 
stands  on  her  pedestal,  and  time  only 
looks  at  her  to  love  her." 

"I  thought  you  were  a  business  man 
as  hard  as  nails,"  said  the  young  man, 
wonderingly.  Lawton  laughed. 

When  Thursday  came,  Lawton, 
carefully  dressed  and  carrying  a  long 
tissue-paper  package,  evidently  of 
roses,  approached  the  Yates  house. 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  There 
had  been  a  warm  day,  and  the  trees 
were  clouds  of  green  and  more  bushes 
had  blossomed.  Eudora  had  put  on 
a  green  silk  dress  of  her  youth.  The 
revolving  fashions  had  made  it  very 
passable,  and  the  fabric  was  as  beau 
tiful  as  ever. 

When  Lawton  presented  her  with 
the  roses  she  pinned  one  in  the  yellowed 

54 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

lace  which  draped  her  bodice  and  put 
the  rest  in  a  great  china  vase  on  the 
table.  The  roses  were  very  fragrant, 
and  immediately  the  whole  room  was 
possessed  by  them. 

A  tiny,  insistent  cry  came  from 
a  corner,  and  Lawton  and  Eudora 
turned  toward  it.  There  stood  the  old 
wooden  cradle  in  which  Eudora  had 
been  rocked  to  sleep,  but  over  the 
clumsy  hood  Eudora  had  tacked  a 
fall  of  rich  old  lace  and  a  great  bow 
of  soft  pink  satin. 

"He  is  waking  up,"  said  the  man,  in 
a  hushed,  almost  reverent  voice. 

Eudora  nodded.  She  went  toward 
the  cradle,  and  the  man  followed. 
She  lifted  the  curtain  of  lace,  and 
there  became  visible  little  feebly  wav 
ing  pink  arms  and  hands,  like  ten 
tacles  of  love,  and  a  little  puckered 

55 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

pink  face  which  was  at  once  ugly 
and  divinely  beautiful. 

"A  fine  boy,"  said  the  man.  The 
baby  made  a  grimace  at  him  which 
was  hideous  but  lovely. 

"I  do  believe  he  thinks  he  knows 
you,"  said  Eudora,  foolishly. 

The  baby  made  a  little  nestling 
motion,  and  its  creasy  eyelids  dropped. 

"Looks  to  me  as  if  he  was  going 
to  sleep  again,"  said  Lawton,  in  a 
whisper.  Eudora  jogged  the  cradle 
gently  with  her  foot,  and  both  were 
still.  Then  Eudora  dropped  the  lace 
veil  over  the  cradle  again  and  moved 
softly  away. 

Lawton  followed  her.  "I  haven't 
my  answer  yet,  Eudora,"  he  whis 
pered,  leaning  over  her  shoulder  as 
she  moved. 

"Come  into  the  other  room,"  she 

56 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

murmured,  "or  we  shall  wake  the 
baby."  Her  voice  was  softly  excited. 

Eudora  led  the  way  into  the  parlor, 
upon  whose  walls  hung  some  really 
good  portraits  and  whose  furnishings 
still  merited  the  adjective  magnificent. 
There  had  been  opulence  in  the  Yates 
family;  and  in  this  room,  which  had 
been  conserved,  there  was  still  un- 
dimmed  and  unfaded  evidence  of  it. 
Eudora  drew  aside  a  brocade  curtain 
and  sat  down  on  an  embroidered  satin 
sofa.  Lawton  sat  beside  her. 

"This  room  looks  every  whit  as 
grand  as  it  used  to  look  to  me  when 
I  was  a  boy,"  he  said. 

"It  has  hardly  been  opened,  ex 
cept  to  have  it  cleaned,  since  you  went 
away,"  replied  Eudora,  "and  no  wear 
has  come  upon  it." 

"And  everything  was  rather  splen- 

57 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

did  to  begin  with,  and  has  lasted.  And 
so  were  you,  Eudora,  and  you  have 
lasted.  Well,  what  about  my  an 
swer,  dear  girl?" 

:<  You  have  to  hear  something  first." 

Lawton  laughed.     "A  confession?" 

Eudora    held    her    head    proudly. 

"No,    not    exactly,"    said    she.     "I 

am  not  sure  that  I  have  ever  had 

anything  to  confess." 

"You  never  were  sure,  you  proud 
creature." 

"I  am  not  now.  I  never  intended 
to  deceive  you,  but  you  were  deceived. 
I  did  intend  to  deceive  others,  others 
who  had  no  right  to  know.  I  do  not 
feel  that  I  owe  them  any  explanation. 
I  do  owe  you  one,  although  I  do  not 
feel  that  I  have  done  anything  wrong. 
Still,  I  cannot  allow  you  to  remain 
deceived." 

58 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Well,  what  is  it,  dear?" 

Eudora  looked  at  him.  "You  re 
member  that  afternoon  when  you  met 
me  with  the  baby -carriage?" 

"Well,  I  should  think  so.  My 
memory  has  not  failed  me  in  three 
days." 

"You  thought  I  had  a  baby  in  that 
carriage." 

"Of  course  I  did." 

"There  wasn't  a  baby  in  the 
carriage." 

"Well,  what  on  earth  was  it,  then? 
A  cat?" 

Eudora,  if  possible,  looked  prouder. 
"It  was  a  package  of  soiled  linen  from 
the  Lancaster  girls." 

"Oh,  good  heavens,  Eudora!" 

"Yes,"  said  Eudora,  proudly.  "I 
lost  nearly  everything  when  that 
railroad  failed.  I  had  enough  left 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

to  pay  the  taxes,  and  that  was  all. 
After  I  had  used  a  small  sum  in  the 
savings-bank  there  was  nothing.  One 
day  I  went  over  to  the  Lancasters', 
and  I — well,  I  had  not  had  much  to 
eat  for  several  days.  I  was  a  little 
faint,  and — " 

"Eudora,  you  poor,  darling  girl!" 

"And  the  Lancaster  girls  found  out," 
continued  Eudora,  calmly.  "They 
gave  me  something  to  eat,  and  I 
suppose  I  ate  as  if  I  were  famished. 
I  was." 

"Eudora!" 

"And  they  wanted  to  give  me 
money,  but  I  would  not  take  it,  and 
they  had  been  trying  to  find  a  laun 
dress  for  their  finer  linen — their  old 
serving- woman  was  ill.  They  could 
find  one  for  the  heavier  things,  but 
they  are  very  particular,  and  I  was 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

sure  I  could  manage,  and  so  I  begged 
them  to  let  me  have  the  work,  and 
they  did,  and  overpaid  me,  I  fear. 
And  I — I  knew  very  well  how  many 
spying  eyes  were  about,  and  I  thought 
of  my  proud  father  and  my  proud 
mother  and  grandmother,  and  perhaps 
I  was  proud,  too.  You  know  they 
talk  about  the  Yates  pride.  It  was 
not  so  much  because  I  was  ashamed 
of  doing  honest  work  as  because  I 
did  resent  those  prying  eyes  and 
tattling  tongues,  and  so  I  said  noth 
ing,  but  I  did  go  back  and  forth  in 
broad  daylight  with  the  linen  wrapped 
up  in  the  old  blue  and  white  blanket, 
in  my  old  carriage,  and  they  thought 
what  they  thought." 

Eudora  laughed  faintly.  She  had 
a  gentle  humor.  "It  was  somewhat 
laughable,  too,"  she  observed.  "The 

61 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

Lancaster  girls  and  I  have  had  our 
little  jests  over  it,  but  I  felt  that  I 
could  not  deceive  you." 

Lawton  looked  bewildered.  "But 
that  is  a  real  baby  in  there,"  he  said, 
jerking  an  elbow  toward  the  other 
room. 

"Oh  yes,"  replied  Eudora.  "I 
adopted  him  yesterday.  I  went  to 
the  Children's  Home  in  Elmfield. 
Amelia  Lancaster  went  with  me. 
Wilson  drove  us  over.  I  know  a 
nurse  there.  She  took  care  of  mother 
in  her  last  illness.  And  I  adopted 
this  baby;  at  least,  I  am  going  to.  He 
comes  of  respectable  people,  and  his 
parents  are  dead.  His  mother  died 
when  he  was  born.  He  is  healthy, 
and  I  thought  him  a  beautiful  baby." 

"Yes,  he  is,"  assented  Lawton, 
but  he  still  looked  somewhat  per- 

62 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

plexed.     "But    why    did    you    hurry 
off  so  and  get  him,  Eudora?"  said  he. 

"I  thought  from  what  you  said 
that  day  that  you  would  be  dis 
appointed  when  you  found  out  I  had 
only  the  Lancaster  linen  and  not  a 
real  baby,"  said  Eudora  with  her 
calm,  grand  air  and  with  no  trace  of  a 
smile. 

"Then  that  means  that  you  say 
yes,  Eudora?" 

For  the  first  time  Eudora  gave  a 
startled  glance  at  him.  "Didn't  you 
know?"  she  gasped. 

"How  should  I?  You  had  not 
said  yes  really,  dear." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Eudora  Yates, 
"that  I  am  not  too  proud  to  allow 
you  to  ask  me  if  my  answer  were  not 


So  that  is  the  reason  you  always 

63 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

ran  away  from  me,  years  ago,  so  that 
I  never  had  a  chance  to  ask  you?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Eudora.  "No 
woman  of  my  family  ever  allows  a 
declaration  which  she  does  not  in 
tend  to  accept.  I  was  always  taught 
that  by  my  mother." 

Then  a  small  but  insistent  cry  rent 
the  air.  "The  baby  is  awake!"  cried 
Eudora,  and  ran,  or,  rather,  paced 
swiftly  —  Eudora  had  been  taught 
never  to  run — and  Lawton  followed. 
It  was  he  who  finally  quieted  the 
child,  holding  the  little  thing  in  his 
arms. 

But  the  baby,  before  that,  cried  so 
long  and  lustily  that  all  the  women 
in  the  Glynn  house  opposite  were  on 
the  alert,  and  also  some  of  the  friends 
who  were  calling  there.  Abby  Sim- 
son  was  one. 

64 


THE    YATES    PRIDE 

"Harry  Lawton  has  been  there  over 
an  hour  now,"  said  Abby,  while  the 
wailing  continued,  "and  I  know  as 
well  as  I  want  to  that  there  will  be  a 
wedding." 

"I  wonder  he  doesn't  object  to 
that  adopted  baby,"  said  Julia  Ester- 
brook. 

"I  know  one  thing,"  said  Abby 
Simson.  "It  must  be  a  boy  baby, 
it  hollers  so." 


THE   END 


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